


Rotten Judgment

by threegee



Category: Hercules (1997)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threegee/pseuds/threegee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Listen, a lady with hair like waterfalls and curves like an urn would be completely idiotic to stay at home and weave tapestries all day."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rotten Judgment

**Author's Note:**

> Meg belongs to Disney, who stole the plot from the Greeks.
> 
> The uncapitalized, unpunctuated version is available on Tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> Because Jem mentioned it, and several others encouraged.

_Hades: I need someone who can handle him…as a man._

_Meg:  Hey, I've sworn off manhandling._

 

___

 

Megara is no innocent, it's true.

 

So she's had a few lovers, so she's been around Hades a time or two (and has tasted from the nectar of the gods before ifyouknowwhatImean).   Listen, a lady with hair like waterfalls and curves like an urn would be completely idiotic to stay at home and weave tapestries all day.

When she was 15 she ran off with the first guy who was willing to get off his horse and lift her up --

lift her  ** _up._**

And that was great and he was great and it was great until they got back to the hovel he called home and she realized she was supposed to do the cooking and the cleaning and the polishing of the armor and the massaging of the feet and the bearing of the little warrior sons in addition to the fun; and, well, if that was the goal then she’d never have left her grandmother’s.

 

So she moved on.

And the next guy and the next guy and the next guy and the next all fell into a pattern — a few weeks of teasing and sassing and running and adrenaline and furtive gropings in public places and intense probings in private ones.   And just when Meg would start to think that maybe this one’s a keeper, he’d hand her a pot to clean or a toga to repair.

 

 

By the time she met Admetus she’d got it down to alchemy: find the guy, flirt with the guy, feel the guy, fuck the guy, flee the guy before he starts making demands or asking questions, or — horror of horrors — offers to introduce her to his mother.

But Admetus wasn’t like that.

Admetus was definitely just as tall and as chiseled like a statue as all the others (a lady has a type and there’s nothing wrong with that); Admetus was as strong as the others and as turned on by her as the others, but Admetus had a deeper core.   He played the lyre and he crushed his own olive oil and he’d read the latest works by Aeschylus and whenever he went to make a temple offering he never forgot to bring something on her behalf too.

Admetus carried her six miles through the fields once.   When she twisted her ankle by tripping on a hidden rock, instead of leaving her to go find the nearest farm and buy a horse off of some peasant Admetus just scooped her up and carried her home.

Admetus took care of everything, Admetus had all the answers, Admetus made sure Meg never had to do a lick of work or worry about a single thing, all she had to do was wait for him.

And wait for him.

And wait for him.

 

Sometimes she waited all day and sometimes most of the night.  Once he was gone for three days straight and he’d taken all the drachmas with him and she wasn’t sure how to get to market or whether she could, like, barter one of her bracelets or something for food because the situation was getting dire.  But then he returned, glistening with sweat and oils and perfumes and bearing flatbreads so she didn’t think about it again until he got sick.

 

_Even on the worst days in the Underworld when Pain and Panic won’t stop yammering and the cerberus has indigestion and Hades has a migrane and shoots blue flames everywhere and she has to spend hours running and ducking for cover because it makes him laugh, even then:_

_it’s still better than the night she watched her only love die from a snakebite._ **_  
_**

 

So she did what the legends said to do and went down to barter for her other half and offer up her immortal soul as well as her mortal body to get Admetus back.   And then she sat in fire-chains as Hades revived him and then she sat in shock as he ran off to a little blonde slip of a thing named Lyssa with whom he apparently had  **five sons.**

 **  
**Meg never figured out if Lyssa knew where her _husband_   had been slipping off to for nearly three years; in part because she didn’t dare ask and in part because now she was bound to the Underworld at least three seasons out of four.

 

 

These days the only time she leaves the sulfurous pits and caverns is to go recruiting for Hades; he’s obsessed with this Olympus takeover plan and won’t listen to a thing she or the imps will say.

It’s going to go disastrously, she can tell.   On the other hand, it gets her out into the sunshine for a change; she’s too dried up inside to care about beauty and nature and light by now (Admetus took that with him when he left) but at least the air up there is cleaner.

One by one all of the hybrids and titans and beasts roaming Greece agree to serve their Lord and Master Hades and Meg turns down 15 offers of wenchliness because honestly if she’s going to be someone’s slave forever it might as well be Hades; there’s zero cooking and fewer blow jobs.

 

The last one on this week’s list is Nessus; the large river centaur with a goatee that was passe in Perseus’s time; and even though he tries to cop a feel like all the others, it’s basically going fine.

And then out of _nowhere,_  someone comes rushing in to save her and picks her up and sets her on dry land.  Before she can figure out which Cretan curses are appropriate, this dumb kid looks up at her all confused and hopeful and bashful.

No one’s ever looked at her like that before, like she’s a vision to be treasured rather than chattel to be hoarded.

As always, she can still feel the iron bands around her heart and the echoes of Admetus’s night-groans and the touch of his lips on her neck but bizarrely it doesn’t hurt as much as usual...

Because this little idiot is offering up his pegasus for her — for Zeus’s sake, where did he get a  _pegasus_  — and it takes all of her willpower to dismiss him:

 

 

_Wonderboy._

 


End file.
